


actors without props//beasts without names

by bereft_of_frogs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Don't Like Don't Read, Drug-Induced Sex, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Grandthorki Day 2019, Imprisonment, Incest Kink, Loss of Control, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Orgy, Public Sex, Rape, Sakaar (Marvel), Sexual Slavery, Sibling Incest, beserker!Thor (kind of), this got very dark and is the first time i feel compelled to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: The Grandmaster recaptures his favorite Asgardian toys after they so rudely started a rebellion and ran off with his ship. It's time for them to repay the debt.He finds a rather public means for them to do so. The brothers are forced to perform, to act out a bizarre story of an illicit, incestuous affair before an audience of wealthy visitors to Sakaar, with no end in sight.Or: The Grandmaster turns out to have a bit of an incest kink and thinks others might like to share.





	actors without props//beasts without names

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).

> Please heed warnings/tags! This got very dark and is probably one of the most graphic things I've ever written. I have no excuses and limited explanations. Again, 'enjoy' is probably the wrong word to use, but...for lack of a better term, enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you to @loxxlay for organizing the event, and sparking inspiration! ;-)

“I’m just so glad to have been invited, you know, this is _such_ an honor,” The man says, not wavering in his thrusts for a moment. Loki hums. His knees and wrists ache. He studies the weaving of the fabric of the blankets and thinks about what he’s going to have for dinner that night. He’s _bored_, which seems a rather odd emotion to have when one is having sex, but it’s a far cry better than the wounded pride and violation of the first days of his second stay on Sakaar. That’s all been burned out of him at this point.

He doesn’t remember this client’s name. He doesn’t bother learning their names anymore. The man pulls out and turns him over onto his back, sliding between his legs with a rakish grin. Loki remembers he’s supposed to be acting just in time to plaster a look of ecstasy over his features.

“Not that I’m having any less fun with you, my prince,” The man purrs. He runs fingers over Loki’s ribs, slides his hands under his hips, and thrusts back in with a grunt. “To be invited into your bedchambers…_ah!_ I am so honored, your highness.”

His bedchamber. Ha. This is _not_ Loki’s bedroom. First off, the colors are all wrong. It’s all draped in violet and gold. And there are scarcely enough books. His quarters on Asgard had been stuffed with them. He admits he had not been the neatest person growing up, constantly stealing books from the library and scattering them around his room, amidst clothes, weapons and artifacts, various other odds and ends. In this room, not a single item is out of place. This bedchamber is scrubbed clean of anything that would indicate he actually lived there. There are only a few books, all pornographic. The drawers are filled only with thin shifts and various lingerie and implements of pleasure. This room has been designed with the idea of a degenerate, insatiable prince in mind, and when Loki is here he is expected to play the part.

And ‘invited.’ Ha. Of course. If by ‘invitation’ one is referring to the fact that Loki is being forced here by threat of violence to his people by the Grandmaster, who likely took a fat stack of cash from this chatty, sweaty merchant.

It’s all an act, just like every single fucking thing on this planet is.

Loki forces a coy smile on his face. “But of course.” He wraps his hand around the back of the man’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “It’s true what they say - I only choose the best to take to my bed.”

Loki chooses no one. _The Grandmaster_ chooses. But he has to play along with the game that he is a debauched, disgraced prince with an insatiable sex drive and an appetite for the perverse - whatever perversities happen to coincide with the clients’ desires, of course. Loki is lucky today; this man was satisfied with only the knowledge that he was fucking a prince, surrounded by the trappings of royalty. He has not always been lucky.

The man smiles hungrily and pushes Loki back down against the heavily embroidered pillows. His thrusts increase and Loki wraps his legs around the man’s waist to try and ease the angle into something more pleasurable. The man wraps his fist around Loki’s cock, pumping in time with his thrusts.

He has not stopped _talking_. His words now turn from how honored he is to be here to how beautiful, how lithe, how skilled Loki is. Loki cannot help but blush a little at the praise, the flush spreading from his face to his neck, to across his heaving chest as he fast approaches orgasm.

Loki comes with a cry while the man whispers sweet words in his ear. He shivers from aftershocks and overstimulation as the man grinds into him, until, minutes later, he spills inside him with a groan.

Even orgasm does not silence this man’s tongue, and Loki starts to dream of cutting it out.

“I have never had such an experience, never, I will never know such heights of pleasure again, your highness, my prince, my _god_. If I could, I would never leave your bed, I would remain here for days.” He is whispering, running his hands over Loki’s stomach, his chest. His hand comes to rest over a nipple, his fingers toying with it absentmindedly. Loki could scream. “I’m sure tonight will be thoroughly enjoyable though, I’m looking forward to it. I’ve heard great things.”

Loki snaps to attention, brow furrowing. “And what is tonight?”

The man just looks up with him through heavily lidded eyes, a wide, hungry smile on his face.

The man leaves for an extravagant private dinner in the Grandmaster’s suite before the show, and Loki is allowed to clean himself and dress, and then two guards escort him back to his room. His real room, the one he now shares with his brother. The one that is more like a cell.

It is not uncomfortable, but it is plain. It contains no books or decorations but is often strewn with clothes and both their personal belongings. There are windows out onto Sakaar but they are barred. The door has no handle on the inside and is always locked. There is only one bed, a bathroom, and a small area for exercise.

When Loki arrives, Thor is sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

“I heard the Grandmaster is holding a performance tonight.” Thor looks up at Loki’s words. “My last client will be in attendance. He told me.”

“So he is. Came to inform me an hour ago.” Thor just looks tired, worn into the ground. Gone are the days of anger, or even humiliation at their condition. This was a job now and Thor just looked profoundly uninterested in going to work that day. “He wants us before the guests arrive.”

“I suppose we should prepare ourselves," Loki sighs.

"Yes. Get ready to put on a show."

\- - - - - - -

Loki had thought he’d figured the Grandmaster out, during his first stay on Sakaar. He was well aware of the man’s perversities, his authoritarianism (though his dislike of the associated terms, the bare facts of it all). Loki thought he knew the tyrant’s strengths, his weaknesses. He thought he was in control, if a little out of depth. He thought if he just swam with the current for a while, he could figure out how to rise.

Then Thor showed up and still he believed he could eventually have the upper hand, if he just played his cards right, gave in in the right ways, remained patient. He thought he could outsmart the Grandmaster.

He was very wrong.

He was apparently not even smart enough to find all the Grandmaster’s tracking devices, despite a thorough search of the Statesman after Ragnarok.

The Grandmaster, having retaken his planet with the help of some nearby wealthy groups, sent borrowed mercenaries to track them down, the small remnants of Asgard. Even with Loki’s magic, Thor’s lightning, the Valkyrie’s sword, and the fury of the Hulk, they were not able to fight off the boarders. They were outnumbered and vastly outgunned and they couldn’t risk more of their people. When it became clear that the Grandmaster intended on capturing them alive, they realized they had no choice but to surrender.

The captain of the mercenary ship stood on the raised platform, where scarcely a month before Thor had greeted his people for the first time as king. The captain grinned out at the gather people and demanded the personal surrender of the royals. After a moment’s fight from Heimdall, Thor broke his grip and stepped forward. Loki followed without a second thought, surprising even himself.

The mercenaries bound them, brought them aboard their vessel, separating them for their people. They were kept shackled and gagged, side by side in the ship’s brig, for days as they made their way back to Sakaar. They were pressed tight in the close quarters, unable to speak or move, but at least were together. Loki had burrowed into Thor’s side, buried his face in his shoulder, while Thor rested his head against Loki’s and tried to keep up a facade of strength. They arrived weakened, starving, and Loki could not help the way that he trembled with fear when dragged before the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster was plainly furious. Loki was certain that they would imminently be tortured to death. When he had finally free use of his tongue, he tried to placate him. “Grandmaster, please,” he said, his voice cracking and raw from disuse and lack of water. “There is not yet reason for…for public execution. Let me try to prove-”

“Oh, Lo,” The Grandmaster said, his fury melting to a sort of patronizing softness. “I’m not going to kill you. No, sweetie, what gave you that idea? What gave you the idea that you deserved to die? Without making it up to me?”

“Making it…?”

“Oh yes,” He smiled. Drew Loki up to his feet as his knees shook. Thor was still bound and gagged at his side, straining towards them and breathing hard. The Grandmaster seized Loki’s face and kissed him hard on the lips. “No,” he said when he broke away. “It’s not going to be that easy, Lo.”

Loki did not count how many people fucked him over the next several days. The Grandmaster most of all, but he was also passed around among the mercenaries and those Sakaarans that remained loyal, like a war prize. He was mercifully allowed to stay with Thor when not ‘in use’, in a small but not uncomfortable cell. For those first days, he could do little else at night than roughly sob, inconsolable, while Thor washed the fluids off him, hushed him, and cradled him while he cried.

Over time, the Grandmaster’s rage cooled. Or else, he was distracted by other shiny things. Sakaar returned to the den of sparkling vice it had been before the revolution. It was honestly an improvement. Loki returned to the status of a treasured object that he’d been before. The Grandmaster was more selective about who he let fuck his treasured _pet_ and was more careful when he himself did. Things went back to normal, at least normal as far as Sakaar was concerned. They surrendered to it, with the threat of violence to their people another compelling reason to give in.

One night, the Grandmaster got wildly drunk. Loki was surprised at the time. He wasn’t sure the Grandmaster _could_ get drunk. He had always enjoyed alcohol and drugs, of course, but Loki had never seen him _actually_ intoxicated. The party shifted towards orgy, as these affairs so often did, and Loki was still trying to figure out if the intoxication could be an act, when the Grandmaster waved him over.

“Bring Lord Sparkles too,” He said with a smile and a pleased gleam in his eyes. Loki glanced downwards as Thor approached; the bulge in the Grandmaster’s robes was obvious. Still, Loki didn’t yet put it all together. Wasn’t smart enough to figure out what designs the Grandmaster had that night.

“I was just thinking,” The Grandmaster slurred. “How beautiful the both of you are. But how different.” They kept very still, watching. “See, dear Lo’s got that ‘tall dark and _pretty_’ thing going on. Willowy, lean muscles, with that _flawless_ pale skin. The dark hair. And when you get flushed, oh, it’s so lovely.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” Loki said carefully.

“And Lord Sparkles. Thor. I remember you in the arena. With those big muscles. _Big_ muscles. Tan and glistening with sweat. Mmm. I almost regret cutting your hair, you must have looked wild with it long. A real beast. The eyepatch becomes you.” Thor said nothing. “I was just thinking,” The Grandmaster continued. His hands came to his robe and brushed it aside, unbuttoned his pants to bear his half-hard cock. “How beautifully you complement each other. How beautifully it would be if you fucked each other.”

“Grandmaster,” Loki said, his voice tight. He felt Thor trembling with rage at his side. “We’ve never…we can’t, we’re-”

“Brothers. I know. That makes it, oh,” The Grandmaster stroked his cock. “That makes it so much better. Go ahead, Sparkles. Kiss him.”

“I will not-”

“Do I need to remind you...? Of…of how many of your sad, pathetic people we’re watching over, out of the goodness of our hearts? Or maybe I can throw Loki here down to the fighters’ pits, let them have a reward for their hard work, if you’re so ungrateful. I mean, since you don’t want him, I might as well give him to someone who does-”

Loki did not have time to react before Thor seized his face, gentle but still desperate, and kissed him.

It was not a bad kiss, Thor certainly knew what he was doing and was fueled by fear, desperation, but there was still the underlying thrumming of _wrong wrong wrong_-

“Come on, use a little tongue!”

Thor shifted his grip on Loki’s neck, tilting his head back and slipping his tongue between his slightly parted lips. A tear tracked down Loki’s cheek, but he knew they had no choice. He rested his hands on Thor’s hips, forced himself not to push him away, and opened his mouth further.

“_Yes_,” The Grandmaster gasped headily. “Perfect. You’re gorgeous…you’re…” The slap of flesh on flesh. The Grandmaster roughly jerking himself. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”

The Grandmaster walked them through it. Every touch, every removal of clothing, was at the Grandmaster’s direction. Loki did not know if it made it better, taking the blame, the fault of the sin, away from them. Or worse, reminding them of their utter helplessness, the depths they’d sunk to in their captivity.

Thor took him so gently that night, with whispered apologies and equal tears, all to the soundtrack of the Grandmaster’s instructions and the sounds of him pleasuring himself to their debasement, to the worst thing they’d ever done.

Back in their cell, they both hesitated to touch each other at first. They sat in dead silence, not even daring to look at the other.

Feeling filthy, and broken, and disgusted with himself, Loki curled into a ball on the floor and screamed into his fists. Finally, Thor evidently couldn’t take it anymore, folded his body over Loki’s and rocked him, crying and whispering, “it’s okay, it’s over, brother, it’s over. I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry.”

If Loki could have spoken that night, if he could have made a noise that was not screaming or rough sobs, he would have said no. It was not over.

Thor was deluding himself, telling himself a comforting fantasy of walking through the fire and making it through, to protect his mind from the horror of their reality. No, this was not over. The Grandmaster had his teeth in something that brought him pleasure and caused them pain. Two birds, one stone. No, it would never be over.

Thus began their ordeal. Thus began the period in which the Grandmaster obsessed over their sordid, incestuous affair. (The one he manufactured, of course.) He had them fuck each other in various positions, scenarios. Made them act out these absurd plays, various little fantasies of their affair.

Until the Grandmaster had the bright idea that there might be others who would be interested in sharing in this spectacle. And so the show was born.

\- - - - - - -

The Grandmaster keeps them waiting, as always. They are summoned to the opulent chamber, surrounded by guards, and made to wait for nearly an hour while the Grandmaster mingles with his guests in the antechamber. Loki shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“If you loathe when your clients are chatty, I loathe being made to wait like this,” Thor growls. His knee bounces nervously.

“Well. It is an hour where we’re not…” Loki trails off.

Thor sets his mouth in a firm line. “Forgive me for wanting to get this over with,” He snaps. Loki winces. “Sorry.” There’s a new sheen of nervous sweat on his skin, and he’s staring very hard at the carpet. Loki rises and fetches a glass of water from the table.

“Here. Drink,” He orders, holding it to Thor’s lips. 

He gives Loki an odd look. “What are you doing?”

“You should stay hydrated. And I’m…getting into character.” Thor just looks more miserable at that but drinks down the water.

“I am _so_ sorry!” The Grandmaster swoops in, a dramatic entrance of swirling blue and gold fabric. “I just, I just _completely_ lost track of time, my mistake. We’ll really have to get a move on if we want to get everything ready in time.” He snaps his fingers.

Two attendants come and grip Loki’s elbows.

“Hey,” He presses forward and nudges Thor’s nose with his own. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispers and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, Sparkles, go on, now you get into position.” Thor kisses Loki a second time and complies, crossing the small stage to stand under the chains that soon will bind him. The guards lead Loki to the small booth. He is made to sit on a small, hard stool. His ankles are chained to the seat pole and his arms bound behind his back with silk cord. He obediently opens his mouth and allows them to wind a black cloth gag around his head. The guards step out and latch the door behind them.

Across the stage, Thor is no less compliant.

“You two are just being so good tonight,” The Grandmaster says, praise dripping from his voice. “I don’t even have to remind you what’s at stake, do I?”

They had not been to see the camp their people were being held in for two months. They used to go, to be reminded of the stakes, or otherwise punished. The last time hadn’t even been their fault. They’d been dragged there and locked in stocks and forced to watch the Valkyrie be flogged for some transgression or another. The Grandmaster had not specified.

Loki shakes his head, lowering his eyes at the Grandmaster’s patient smile. He risks a glance at Thor, his heart dropping into his stomach when he does. This is always the worst part. There’s just something so frighting about watching his older brother quietly surrender himself to their bindings that makes him want to be sick. Or scream. The first few times he _had_ cried, unexpectedly unable to hold back the sobs that tore at his throat. It had destroyed him to watch Thor debase himself like this, and to know it was partially his fault. Thor submitted without protest to spare Loki the worst of the punishments the Grandmaster could dole out.

But like everything else, the pain of this has dulled over time. Now, only a few tears sting at his eyes and only a slight tremor travels through his body as he watches his brother submit to the chains.

Thor removes his clothes, excepting a thin loincloth, and is forced to kneel. His arms are each encircled with thick steel cuffs, attached to chains on either side of the wall. A steel band is tightened around his chest and locked into chains that affix to the wall at four points behind and to his sides. A collar is fitted around his neck and locked, attached to two chains that lead up to the ceiling. A muzzle is clamped down over his nose and mouth, making his breath shallow and noisy. The chains are pulled tight by a control in the Grandmaster’s hand until he’s completely unable to move in any direction and unable to slump down.

The Grandmaster pockets the control and goes over to him.

“Hm, your hair could be a little messier,” He fusses at the blond locks, grown long again after being cut when they had first arrived on Sakaar. The Grandmaster sniffs at him. “But you do smell oh-so-nice. Like sweat. You know how our guests love that.” He runs a hand down Thor's chest and even from the distance, Loki can see his brother tense.

With a glance and a sick smile back at Loki, the Grandmaster draws the full syringe out of his robes. “Time for your medicine.”

Thor doesn’t even struggle as the drug’s injected into a vein in his neck.

“Now, I’ve got to go get everyone else ready. And then…showtime!” The Grandmaster sweeps out of the room again and leaves them to watch the transformation take place.

Loki had wept through this part, the first few performances, and the Grandmaster had _loved_ that. Loved that when the crowds came in they would see Thor bound like a beast and Loki weeping, straining for him. But he doesn’t have it in him to cry anymore. Just to watch.

The transformation starts slowly. After a few minutes of nothing happening at all, Thor shifts like he’s suddenly restless, uncomfortable. He sways in the chains, then gradually grows more and more relaxed until he’s limp, eyes drooping. His head lolls backward and his breathing slows to a crawl.

Then he lets out a low, long moan. Twitches. Grunts. He is still relaxed, muscles limp, but he begins to breathe faster, to sweat. He shifts again, starting to fight a little against the chains holding him. His head slowly rises. His eyes open and his pupils are as round as saucers. His eyes dart around, landing on nothing in particular. He moans again, more desperately. Tries to get to his feet but the chains keep him on his knees. He thrashes in them suddenly, lashing out with a snarl.

The transformation is complete. Thor is a shell now. There is nothing of his brother that remains in this form, for as long as the drug lasts. Thor’s soul is stuffed down and only the most base, most feral urges remain.

Thor growls and shakes, howls and fights at his bonds. The loincloth is tented now. His erection bulges. Loki is trembling in his own bonds but he forces his chin up. He grabs his own wrist, squeezing until the pain grounds him and he can take a deep breath.

Thor starts to rut at the empty air, desperate seeking friction, howling when he can’t get it.

The guests begin to filter in, holding glasses and tittering. They glance at the brothers, bound on the stage, with hungry and interested eyes. They settle themselves on the cushions, drinking and talking among themselves, and taking in the show.

Thor is putting on a good one for them today, fighting and growling. The Grandmaster sweeps onstage and pats his head. He lunges for him with a snarl, muted by the muzzle.

“Oops, not to close there, sweetheart,” He dances away. “Welcome, welcome! This, as you know, is a very special honor for you. We have leashed the beast and come up with a state-of-the-art bond system to give you the chance to know what pure, uninhibited lust feels like. What it must feel like in the wilds of primitive planets, where men take each other like animals.” The crowd has gone quiet, taking in the sight. “Ah, alas, this beautiful creature was once the king of the great realm of Asgard. He was the greatest warrior in the Nine Realms, beautiful, bloodthirsty, unstoppable. But when Asgard fell on hard times, our poor, poor king was cursed. He is mindless, now, as you see, mindless as a beast. Gone insane from his trials and the consequences of years of fighting like a monster. Where he was once driven mad with bloodlust, he is now consumed with one thing and one thing only.”

The Grandmaster reaches down and yanks off the loincloth. It tears easily in his hand, baring Thor’s massive erection. It is so swelled with blood it is flushed near purple, the veins pulsing. Thor growls and thrusts forward, still seeking relief. “Oh yes, our beast has only one thing on his mind.” The Grandmaster reaches down and pumps his cock twice. Thor lets out a deep groan and presses up - when the Grandmaster steps away and growls again and thrashes at the chains. “I’ll ask my dearest Nella to demonstrate our system.”

Nella must have drawn the short straw in the common brothels tonight, Loki thinks to himself as he watches her cross the stage. She does not tremble as she sheds her gown and approaches, but there is apprehension in her eyes. She lays down on the pad beneath Thor’s prison and spreads her legs. The Grandmaster hits a button on the controls and the chains release, giving Thor enough leeway to crawl forward on his hands and knees towards her. For a moment he just paws at her as she fights to hold herself still. And then his eye goes impossibly darker, the pupil completely consuming the iris, and with a muffled howl he bends over her body and sinks himself inside her.

She lets out a cry, hands scrabbling at his back. But Thor is beyond thought, driven mad with lust and he pounds rhythmically into her, grunting.

Loki sees the Grandmaster make a signal and with a shaky voice, Nella cries out, “Yield!” The chains snap back in an instant, pulling Thor back into position. He roars, cock twitching, furious for having been denied. Like a beast, he struggles and roars, though the sound is muffled by the muzzle. Nella grabs her robe and hastily retreats.

“You see how this works? Go for as long as you can take and then should, “Yield.” The chains will pull our poor, insatiable king off of you and rest assured, if something goes wrong we have plenty of guards who will not hesitate to fell the beast.” Loki glances at them, at their sparking batons and bites down on his gag. “It’s perfectly safe. Now,” The Grandmaster smiles out at the crowd. “Who is brave enough to go first?”

Loki has seen it all by now. He has watched the crowd that gathers to be fucked by his drugged, sex-crazed, beast of a brother and concluded that they are all the same. They all desire a loss of control and the Grandmaster hands it to them on a silver platter. None of them know what a true loss of control feels like, none of them understand what they’re truly doing, and they all make Loki sick.

There are groups who goad their friends into trying.

The older, obviously wealthy people who dominate others all day and want to try the other side out for a change.

The man who Loki utterly loathes and would see torn apart if he had his way, who always wants to provoke Thor, fights against him, wrestling until he is beaten. He laughs when Thor pins him, wrenches his legs to the side and penetrates him with a howl.

There is one who has been at most of these parties - she manages to hold on through two orgasms this time, until she’s screaming and her screams only fuel Thor’s beastly rage and lust. The audience finds this quite the spectacle, especially when the following guest is nearly broken in two with Thor’s desperation.

By the time the party’s winding down, when most have had their turn, Thor has come five times and shows no signs of slowing. His cock is as hard as ever and after each orgasm, he only seems to want it more. When no one is left to be fucked by the beast, the Grandmaster returns to the center stage.

“There is one bright spot in our poor, cursed king’s life,” The Grandmaster says. Thor is fighting hard against his chains now, roaring. “Only one person who can quell the rage and calm the beast.” The audience is quiet now but still engaged. They lay back on their cushions, satiated and pleasantly tired, sipping at their drinks. This is when the real dramatics of the story start. “They were once forbidden lovers; their affair conducted in secret for centuries.”

Loki could roll his eyes, but that’s not part of the act. By now he is exhausted, trembling with the exertion of holding himself on this narrow seat. His ass aches, the plug constantly prodding at him when he slips. He is half-hard himself. He cannot deny that after several hours of watching this display of uninhibited lust and watching who knows how many people get their release has not left him a little aroused. A guard comes to unlatch the booth and uncuffs his ankles from the pole. The guard helpfully spreads lubricant, though it is cold and the guard’s thick fingers preparing him are not gentle. Loki forces himself to stand still, to suffer the humiliation without letting it show on his face.

The Grandmaster’s speech continues.

“An eternal love, beyond even this foul curse,” The Grandmaster is still droning on about their torrid, incestuous affair. “Condemned by all, but a blessing in these troubled times.” He gestures as Loki is led out, still gagged and bound by the silk cord around his wrists. “His brother, the Prince of Asgard, the only one who can calm the monster. Called perverse, disgusting in their youths, when they sought each other’s bodies for pleasure, but now their love is the only thing that can save them.”

The Grandmaster unties him, removes the gag from his mouth. “Go on.”

It’s only half acting, the cautious hesitation in Loki’s step. The tremble in his limbs and the tears that spring to his eyes as he slowly approaches where his brother, still erect, still thrashing at his chains, crouches.

Thor moans, sniffing the air, as Loki kneels before him. He whimpers and strains forward.

This is the most heartbreaking part; it works. The Grandmaster’s story might be entirely bullshit, but the effect is not. Loki does, in fact, possess the ability to calm his brother down from these rages. He holds some spell over his brother, even in this monstrous state.

With trembling hands, he strokes at his brother’s head, his chest, shushing him. Then he unlocks the muzzle. Without it, Thor’s moans and growls are loud, uninhibited. His teeth gnash and his tongue, red and swollen, darts out to wet his lips. The crowd is silent. Loki brings his hands to the collar, undoing the clasp and letting it fall aside. In a second, Thor lunges forward, remaining chains clicking, his erection presses at Loki’s hip but then-

“Stop,” Loki commands and he does. He settles back against his heels and growls. Loki wraps his arms around Thor’s chest and he obediently sits still as Loki finds the clasps on the bands binding his arms. Loki patiently allows Thor to rub his cock against his thigh, keening, as he works on the clasps. The cuffs are undone and Thor’s arms are freed to paw at him with his massive hands, squeezing and rubbing. He is not gentle in this, but firm and insistent. Loki tolerates it as he undoes the band around his chest.

“Stop,” He commands again, but Thor doesn’t. He grips Loki’s hips and rubs his cock more insistently against Loki’s thigh. “_Stop_.” Thor lashes out, striking at his hip. Loki lets out a cry of pain and a guard steps forward, but Loki waves him off. He will be sporting a decent bruise in the morning but is otherwise uninjured.

He softly caresses Thor’s back, his shoulders. Thor smells like sweat and spend, he’s slick with it. His hair is wet with sweat, hanging before his clouded, sightless eyes. He moans again as he rhythmically thrusts forward, seeking release.

“It’s all right,” Loki whispers. “Stop.” And Thor listens this time, withdrawing. Loki rises and leads him to the large bed set back on the stage. He makes just enough of a show of shedding his black robe, letting it drag along the muscles of his back, pausing with the fabric clinging to his hips, before dropping it to the floor and laying back on the bed. Thor watches, a trickling of saliva dripping down his chin, as Loki spreads his legs and takes a deep breath.

Whether it is the sight, or the smell, or some other unnameable quality, Thor is again overtaken. He loses all control, roaring again like a beast as he lunges, grips Loki’s hips, pulling him up and thrusting in in one smooth motion.

It hurts and it is impossible to adjust to, as Thor does not stop moving. His punishing thrusts do not cease or slow. He holds Loki down and pounds him into the mattress. Loki cannot help the surprised, pain cry that is wrenched out of his throat as he reaches up to grip the frame of the bed, squeezing and gritting his teeth. Thor fixes his mouth on Loki’s throat, sucking a hard bruise.

Loki does adjust, as Thor’s thrusts fall into a steady pattern. Even in this state, even though they have never fucked while sober, though they would never choose this for themselves, Thor draws pleasure out of him. Loki cannot deny that such rough, fast treatment has been a quality he’s enjoyed in partners in the past, and in his exhausted, burnt out state he can even manage to forget the wrongness of it all. Thor wrenches one trembling orgasm out of Loki before he comes again himself, driving spend deep inside. Even that does not slow him down, as he merely roars and starts thrusting again.

Loki - overstimulated, too sensitive, wishing desperately for it to be over - just grips his shoulders, running his thumbs in soothing circles on his skin, and tries to ride it out.

There’s always a little hitch, right before the drug starts to fade. Thor gasps in once, gives an almighty shudder and blinks, before he goes back to rhythmic thrusts. The Grandmaster has a sparkle in his eye and he winks at Loki.

“See how sweet our prince is to his beloved? How caring?” Loki looks away, wrapping one arm secure across Thor’s back as he comes yet again, shuddering and roaring in his ear. He presses a kiss to Thor’s temple, combing fingers through his hair. “He has soothed the nature of the beast.” Thor’s thrusts slow, and they become more like slow rocks of their bodies together. Thor takes his hands off Loki’s shoulders, where he had been pressing him into the bed and wraps his arms around Loki’s back, holding their bodies flush. Loki shifts his hips to a better angle, wrapping his legs around Thor’s waist.

“Let’s give our royals some privacy, eh?” The Grandmaster smiles as the screen drops, protecting them from sight and sound of the crowd. The show is at its end.

But things are not quite over yet.

Thor does not stop thrusting, though gradually his grunts fade. His hips begin to stutter. His breaths turn into uneven pants. He’s drenched in sweat, dropping his head so his hair covers his face.

“I’m sorry,” He moans. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He says it over and over again.

“Shhhh,” Loki whispers. “It’s almost over. You’re almost there.”

“Nnn, I’m sorry,” Thor moans again. But still, he cannot stop the sharp snap of his hips. His breath catches and with an almighty cry almost like a sob, he comes one final time, taking what feels like a long time. They shiver together, and it is finally over.

Thor goes boneless, collapsing completely onto Loki, shaking like a leaf. He’s still inside him, and Loki can feel him finally beginning to soften. Thor can no longer speak, not even the string of muttered apologies.

Loki eases him down from the high with soft caresses, kissing his temple and stroking his hair, the nape of his neck. Finally, Thor can lift his head, press a chaste kiss to Loki’s cheek. “What story was it this time?” He says in a broken, raw voice.

“The star-crossed brothers in love,” Loki whispers back. “With the curse of madness.”

Thor grunts. “How many?”

“Didn’t count the audience. I think you got up to seven though. Eight, maybe.”

“Hm.” Thor kisses him sweetly. His good eye is blue again, clear and focused. “Did I hurt you?” Loki considers trying to lie but then thinks better of it. They’ve too much lying to do these days.

“I’ll expect you to rub salve into my bruise tomorrow.” He takes Thor’s hands and brings it to the place he had struck, smoothing his palm out over the ache. Thor rubs it softly, lightly pressing as if he could massage it away. His expression is twisted in guilt and Loki grabs his chin, pulls him up for a quick, forgiving kiss.

Somehow it had all gotten blurred. What had been normal for their relationship, what was a job, what was poisoned and twisted by the Grandmaster’s games. Thor rolls off him and opens his arms. Still naked, Loki curls back against him. Thor wraps his arms around his waist, their legs tangled together. They fall asleep like that.

Some hours later, just before dawn, attendants come to rouse them. They tiredly limp to the showers to wash the sweat and bodily fluids off of their skin. They’re allowed to dress in clothes they choose themselves, soft, plainly colored fabric that covers as much skin as possible and shown back to their quarters.

Thor tiredly flops back into bed while Loki draws the curtains against the rising sun. The Grandmaster never summons them the day after one of these little shows, so they’re safe to spend the whole day in bed, trying to forget where they are. Loki makes sure the curtains are securely shut, that there is a clean basin of water on the table, then crawls in next to his brother.

Thor wraps his arms around Loki’s middle and buries his face in his chest as Loki covers them with the blankets. Loki thinks Thor’s fallen asleep like that, but after a few minutes, he becomes aware of spreading dampness on his shirt, the way Thor’s breaths are unsteady and hitching.

Loki’s glad Thor cannot see his face like this. Tears spring to his own eyes and he cannot help the miserable, twisted expression on his face. He wants to weep as well, wants to sob and scream until someone comes to care for him, but it’s not his turn. Not his time. He has to be the strong one now.

“Shhh,” He says, keeping the thickness out of his voice by force of will alone. “Shhh, it’s all right.” He threads his fingers through Thor’s hair, rubs his thumbs over his temples. “It’s all right.” Thor holds him tighter, buries his face further in Loki’s chest as he weeps.

Eventually, they fall back asleep, curled together like children, while Sakaar and its vices churn around them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just one of those weird id things that got stuck in my brain, I had to get it out, and then after I finished writing it, I sat there side-eyeing it like...'okay, brain, you okay in there?' 
> 
> Honestly, I _do_ have an idea for a sequel, one that's a bit less bleak, but I make no promises! Thank you so much for reading to the end! I was really afraid to post this, given how graphic/dark it is, but...hey, I did it, it's out there, can't control it anymore. 
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) and twitter [@bereft_of_frogs](https://twitter.com/bereft_of_frogs).


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